


Protection

by goldenteaset



Category: Dance with Devils (Anime)
Genre: Bonding Over Demon-Slaying, Demons, Exorcist(s), Gen, Lindo has some serious issues, Male-Female Friendship, Pre-Series, Self-Sacrifice, Spoilers for Dance With Devils episode 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-04 20:19:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5347271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenteaset/pseuds/goldenteaset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Before Lindo can answer, the book slowly opens with a <i>crack</i>. A chill crawls up Azuna’s spine as the pages turn in a blur. A cold wind howls, she shields her eyes—</p><p>Azuna and Lindo are blown back by the gust. They fall to the floor, gaping at the purple smoke emitting from the book. It obscures what light remains and oozes about the archives. She feels something rush past her, and whips around only to find nothing.</p><p>'What was…?' she whispers.</p><p>Lindo claps a hand over her mouth. 'Ssh.'"</p><p> </p><p>Azuna is seven years old when she meets a demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protection

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I'm the first person to post Dance With Devils fic on AO3! That's...daunting. 
> 
> My previous attempts at DWD fic kept getting debunked by canon (ah, the joys of attempting to write while the anime's airing), so I went for something pre-series instead! Not that this probably won't get debunked later by the Vita game, but we'll see. XD
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Dance With Devils.

Azuna is seven years old when she first encounters a demon.

The priests in the local church have “seen her potential”—at least, that’s what she’s hearing through the keyhole of her parents’ bedroom—and they offered the chance to see the Holy archives instead of the Sunday lessons she’d been listening to before. While her parents are wary, Azuna is delighted; she’s the type to learn by reading or watching. Not having to struggle to pay attention to sermons sounds like a miracle.

“Yes, please!” she cries, pushing the bedroom door open and making her parents’ bed _creak_ as they start.

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop,” her mother says sternly. “And you should be in bed!”

“…Sorry,” Azuna says, staring down at her cotton pajamas then back up at her parents. She awkwardly pulls the pants legs up to avoid tripping as she walks forward. “But I _do_ want to see the archives! It’ll be fun, and there’ll be grown-ups there, so I won’t get lost.” She makes her eyes go wide and bites her lip—the winning combo in this situation. “Papa, Mama… _please_?”

“Are you sure?” her father asks, his thick blond brows pinched in concern. “It could be really boring.”

Azuna’s worried about that, but something _maybe_ being boring is better than _knowing_ she’ll be bored. She says so, and makes her parents laugh fondly.

“Alright,” her mother says, and pats her head. “We’ll talk to Father Himura tomorrow. You can wear the orange ribbons you made.”

Azuna barely sleeps that night, giddy with anticipation.

\---

Father Himura leads Azuna down the beautiful stone steps to the archives. She dutifully holds his hand as they descend—there is no railing for support. Her red frilled dress and brown Mary Janes are drenched in darkness. She listens to the whispering sound of the Father’s wrinkled hand on the cold stone wall and tries not to get annoyed at how wide and steep the stairs are.

She’s noticed that Father Himura looks sadder than usual, but she supposes that’s grownup business. _Maybe he’s going to move…?_

“Remember,” Father Himura rasps, “the archives are not a library. The books and scrolls must stay here, without exception. And the bookshelf in the back is _not to be touched._ Understood?”

“Yes,” Azuna says, instead of asking why. _They’re probably too old to be picked up. If you touch them, they’ll crumble and make a mess…_

They reach the bottom. In front of them is a simple wood door with iron hinges, like the door to a witch’s house. Father Himura takes out ring of keys from his white robes, finds a small bronze key and unlocks the door with a _click_ and _creak._ A warm breeze follows suit, contrasting sharply with the chill air. 

Azuna eagerly rushes inside. “ _Wow!_ Father Himura, this place is so cool!”

“I’m glad you think so. We have preserved these Holy works for hundreds of years—they’re even older than I am!”

Azuna can’t believe _that_. Father Himura’s had wispy white hair and a wrinkly face since she was little.

The archives’ floor and walls are all made of smooth white stone, illuminated by creamy-orange light bulbs that rest in the round metal fixtures above. The slight modernity only makes the endless rows of towering pine bookshelves more timeless, as if they have stood forever.

Azuna sees a huge barrel by the door, with a canteen hanging next to it. She goes over to the barrel and stands on tiptoe to peer at it. _Something smells like water in here…_

“Father Himura, is this for priests to drink?”

He chuckles. “Certainly not! That’s Holy Water, meant to purify evil things.”

“Oooh.”

She wants to get a better look, but she focuses on Father Himura once he clears his throat.  

“Go to whichever bookshelf you want, except for the one in the back. Oh, and there will be another child with you, to keep you company.” Father Himura looks around and calls “Lindo, where are you?”

“Over here, Father Himura!” pipes a voice by a desk surrounded by books.

A boy with tussled, cherry-red hair peers beyond the stacks. He’s a burst of color in a sea of brown and white, and Azuna finds him fascinating.

Father Himura chuckles fondly. “Come here and meet your fellow student.” As the boy strolls over, his white t-shirt and blue overalls standing in opposition to the room around him, Father Himura says “Azuna, this is Tachibana Lindo. Lindo, this is Kuzuha Azuna. You two will be studying here, so please treat each other well.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Azuna and Lindo say, bowing respectfully.

Once the formalities are over, Father Himura lets them get to know each other. It’s a little awkward, at first—Azuna can tell Lindo is older than her, and there’s something about him that’s more serious than other boys she’s met. They wander in different directions for a time—she in the hymns, he in the transcribed ceremonies. But once they bump into each other in the middle shelf, Lindo says softly “I like your ribbons” and Azuna compliments his blue eyes, they feel more comfortable.

\---

Their companionable exploration is interrupted by a loud _thud._

The noise hangs in the stillness of the room. Azuna tries to place the noise, while Lindo already knows.

“It’s just a book,” he assures her, and they wander to the source. “We should put it back.”

Azuna nods, though she feels a little worried—were the lights always this dim?

As they check each row of shelves one after the other, occasionally Azuna hears the _pit-pit_ of lights flickering. The room feels colder, too, and she rubs her arms nervously.

Once they reach the fallen book, Azuna’s stomach roils with unease. On the surface, it looks normal, small and bound in brown leather like many other books here. It’s decorated with a leather and metal lock that must have loosened during the fall—also expected. But it’s lying between two shelves, one normal, the other with an ornate black circle marked on it. _That’s got to be the_ bad _shelf…does this book go there?_

 _Click._ The lock opens.

Lindo’s face tightens in worry. “We should put it back,” he repeats, though he sounds less confident now.

“Who should do it?” She’s torn between hiding behind him or standing strong. “I mean, we’re not supposed to be here…”

Before Lindo can answer, the book slowly opens with a _crack._ A chill crawls up Azuna’s spine as the pages turn in a blur. A cold wind howls, she shields her eyes—

Azuna and Lindo are blown back by the gust. They fall to the floor, gaping at the purple smoke emitting from the book. It obscures what light remains and oozes about the archives. She feels something rush past her, and whips around only to find nothing.

“What was…?” she whispers.

Lindo claps a hand over her mouth. “ _Ssh._ ”

Silence presses down on them. It feels like the walls are holding their breath.

Then Azuna hears a short, horrified scream and a _hiss_ akin to sand hitting the bottom of a glass. She can feel Lindo’s pulse thrum through his palm.

“Father Himura,” Lindo mutters, his voice shaking slightly.

 _Thump._ Something lands beside them. Azuna tries not to look up, but her body doesn’t listen.

All she can see is a gangly, rod-thin shadow with small horns and long hooked claws. It grins at her, and fear skitters across her back.

“Azuna, run!” Lindo shoves her out of the way. He pulls a rosary from his pocket like a knight draws his sword. 

Azuna can guess what that shadow is, and knows that Lindo can’t face it alone. She runs to find Father Himura—and can’t see him anywhere. At first, she can hear nothing but hoarse rumbling behind her, but eventually the rumbling turns into a song:

_That old soul was tough and dry_

_Whose tastes could that satisfy?_

_With these children, soft and sweet_

_This imp shall have a wicked feast!_

At the word “feast” she hears the _crack_ of wood shattering, and Lindo crying out in pain. She runs to the huge barrel by the door. Her chest hurts, and her breaths come out in sharp gasps.

She reaches the barrel and scrabbles for an opening. Her nails _scrape_ against the wood. Her fingers burn. _Come on…open! Open!_

Azuna feels something cold brush against her arm and jumps. It’s the canteen. She quickly unhooks it and nearly cries with relief: there’s water inside. _Does it matter if it’s cold?_ She wonders if Father Himura knew the answer.

She hears a _crash_ and turns to see Lindo at the imp’s mercy. The desk is a pile of rubble, and the books are torn to shreds. Those wicked claws clamp about Lindo’s head and lift him like a doll. Lindo’s fingers struggle for purchase. They slip off the imp’s skin like water on a stone.

“What a strange soul,” hisses the imp, as though Lindo’s a cut of meat.

Azuna’s cry rises up from her belly and into the room. “Let him _go!_ ” She breaks into a run. Angry tears blur her vision.

The imp doesn’t look at her. “Wait your turn, human.”

Azuna _pops_ the stopper open and throws the canteen.

Everything slows to a crawl. She can practically see every drop of Holy Water as it lands on the imp’s flesh. A drawn-out _hiss_ fills the archives, along with the smell of burning skin. The imp’s claws spasm, and Lindo falls to the ground. The imp’s howls send a chill through her, followed by something akin to triumph.

She watches Lindo get to his feet and recite an incantation with eyes dark and cold. His voice never falters, though she can see he’s covered in bruises and scratches. The rosary swings madly in his hand.

“ _Prostrate thyself before me, O ye who lurk in darkness…_ ”

Azuna’s dazzled by the beautiful sky-blue circle that winds its way around the howling imp.  

“… _Though thou wouldst veil thyself in shadows, be thou driven out by my hand! Begone!_ ”

The circle glows again, and the imp turns to dust.

Lindo collapses, still clutching the rosary. “It…it worked…”

Azuna runs over to his side, torn between worrying for him or congratulating him. She settles on resting her hand on his shoulder. “Are you hurt? Can I help?”

Lindo’s smile is blinding in its warmth. “I’m fine. Just help me up, okay? We’ve got to tell the priests what happened.”

Azuna nods and lifts him up.

“What about Father Himura…?”

There’s a long, weary pause.

“…I guess we should pray for him.”

They do so in silence for a long moment. If Lindo notices any water on the floor, he doesn’t mention it.

They walk slowly to the door together, with her hand around his shoulders to keep him steady. As her heartbeat slows, she finds herself aware of how unsurprised Lindo is by what happened. He’s tired and sad, that’s obvious, but other than that he’s acting as though this is an ordinary day.

“You’re probably still scared, huh?” Lindo looks at her with gentle concern more suited to a parent than a friend. “Sorry, I should’ve fought harder.”

Azuna reacts without thinking.

_Smack._

“Ouch! What’d you hit me for?” Lindo clutches the back of his head, finally looking more his age.

“It,” Azuna’s voice trembles. “It was going to _eat_ you. Just like it ate Father Himura. How—how can you say you didn’t fight _enough?_ ” Her throat hurts, and she can’t say anything through the pain.

Lindo’s gaze softens, and before she can react he’s ruffling her hair. Hot tears flow down her cheeks as the comforting warmth from his hand seeps into her. She sniffles loudly and feels like a mess. She can’t bring herself to look at him.

"...Sorry, Azuna." He doesn't sound like he understands why he made her cry. "I won't do that again. You don't have to worry, okay?"

"Liar."

He chuckles awkwardly. “I'm that obvious, huh?”

Azuna manages to laugh. “What bad luck.”

“Yeah. But you’ve got good luck. So here’s an idea…” Lindo crouches down to her height so he can look her in the eye. “If you be my friend and fight by my side, I’ll learn not to say or do those stupid things, and your luck will rub off on me. That way you won’t have to worry, _and_ you’ll have a friend! How’s that sound?”

He removes his hand from her head and gives her space to think. Despite his confident words, he seems nervous about what she’s going to say. _He’s just as clueless as me…_

Azuna can’t help but smile. “You’d better be okay with me protecting you sometimes!”

“But I’m older than you, I don’t need—” Lindo pauses and looks down at his bruised body. He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, okay. Whatever makes Mom and Ritsuka worry less is fine by me.”

“Is Ritsuka your sister?”

“Uh-huh.” He looks proud of this fact. “She’s about your age—I wouldn’t trade her for anything! She’s gentle and fun, and she never gives up. That’s why I’m learning all this fighting stuff, to keep her safe.”

Now Azuna _really_ has a stake in this plan. _If you keep this up, she’ll hate you for getting hurt._

At Azuna’s insistence, they pinky-swear on their deal. Lindo doesn’t seem to think this is necessary, but she’s taking no chances; she’s seen how stubborn and self-sacrificing he is already.

Once they reach the archives’ door, Azuna feels wracked with nerves. Would the priests tell her parents about this? What if they didn’t? She hates the idea of leaving them in the dark, but somehow that feels like the safer option. _Maybe…if I learn how to fight like Lindo, I can protect them too one day._

Lindo curls his hand around the doorknob. He looks at her with an older brother’s smile. “Don’t be scared. We’ll face everything together.”

 _That’s right. We’ve made a promise._ She puts on a brave face—for Lindo, for Father Himura, and for herself. She nods and keeps her arm around his shoulder.

“Okay. Let’s go.”


End file.
